


Swept Away

by hobbitdragon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Heteronormativity, Marriage Proposal, Only not quite, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Talking about what you want in bed is hard, and the kicking of it to the curb, sort of by accident kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9581906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/pseuds/hobbitdragon
Summary: It can be confusing, being swept off your feet so effectively that you wind up between your beloved's legs.





	

“I got you something,” Vhonan murmured with a shy grin, ducking his face down in embarrassment.

“A gift?” Cassandra said with surprise. “I don’t mind that you’re still courting me--I love that you want to--but you need not trouble on my account. I’m not one of those fancy Orlesian women who needs to know that a thousand royals were spent upon her in order to feel she is loved.”

The elf went redder still. “I, uh. It’s not really a courting gift anymore. It’s definitely more of a....solid relationship type gift.”

Her eyes went round.

“You _can’t_ propose to me yet! I haven’t even met your clan--and the Inquisitor can’t get married before the Divine is crowned, it would be improper! And I wanted Leliana to officiate the cerem--”

At Vhonan’s huge-eyed stare, which showed nothing but surprise, Cassandra stopped herself, shoulders hunching.

“Oh,” she whispered. “It’s….it's not a ring, is it.”

“No,” Vhonan choked out, mortified. “And now what I’ve gotten you will seem tasteless and terrible. I’m….um. But. It’s. I didn’t want to say I was-- _thinking_ of marriage, it seemed too early and things are--yes, I agree, the political situation--but I was--I did _think_ , but I don’t want to pressure you--”

Thankfully it was at that point she shut him up with a kiss. When their mouths parted several breath-warm seconds later, she smiled at him, now equally pink.

“Thank you for saving the Inquisitor from an ignoble demise,” Vhonan chuckled. “I think I would have blithered myself to death.”

“I want a long engagement,” she informed him, and nothing in her tone seemed to be laughing at him or mocking him in any way. He relaxed in her arms. “I want to meet the Lavellan clan first. I want to give myself time to….to accept that we might have to have two ceremonies, and that one of them won’t be Andrastian. And I want us _both_ to wear engagement rings, which means I have to find one for you.”

He giggled, fumbling for her hands and then bringing them up to his lips to kiss them.

“So, what _did_ you get me, if not that?” she asked.

This time, Vhonan blushed from ear-tips to neckline.

“Nevermind,” he mumbled. “It’s just something we mentioned once. It's very silly, you should probably just forget it.”

At this, the fierce Lady Seeker that was all most people saw of her came out, and she raised one unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“You cannot promise a lady a gift and then break that promise,” she informed him sternly. Even knowing she was doing it just to get a rise out of him, it worked, and he slumped, letting his head fall to her shoulder.

“Just....please don’t hate me?”

“That depends upon the gift, now doesn’t it?”

“Also, please don’t hate any of the people who helped me get this gift.”

“You are not making this sound better.”

He _hadn’t_ been nervous to give it to her before. _Before_ now, even if she hadn’t liked it, it would have been a mere humorous interlude to think back on later, nothing more. Rather like when Varric had given her his new book. But now, with a conversation about marriage hanging between them--

Cassandra gamely followed Vhonan back to his chambers, accepting the plain wooden box with a look of real surprise and curiosity. When she opened it, however, the small huff of air that left her open mouth could have meant anything.

Vhonan managed to make himself not cringe. He’d faced Corypheus, he wasn’t going to back down now. But the several seconds of silence still wore at him like a sand blasting his skin in the Hissing Wastes.

Finally, Cassandra set the box down on the bed and lifted out the objects inside. In one hand she held a gorgeously-carved wooden phallus, in the other, a fine blue leather harness.

“Where did you even get this?” she asked. "It's not Orlesian make. Not that I know _much_ about Orlesian wares of this sort," she clarified. "Leliana gave me--well, nevermind."

At this, Vhonan smiled, though his chest was still clutched tight with anxiety. “It’s enchanted to--um, to be _better_ for the person wearing it. I had to ask Dagna, and she had to send away to Tevinter and Orlais for some of the information, because they make things like this there." He trailed off. "I know you say that it’s _enough_ between us the way it is, that _I’m_ enough. But after all we've been through, why settle for just _enough?”_

“I’ve never--” she started, and this time she trailed off, one thumb caressing the rich leather. “The mage I dallied with before you, he was very traditional in the ways we joined. And human, so he was....well.” _Bigger_ , she didn’t say, but she didn’t have to. Vhonan knew exactly how big he wasn’t, and at half a head shorter than her with an endowment to match his diminutive size, he wasn’t the sort of heroic male figure one saw in erotic woodcuts.

He didn’t behave like one, either. He’d slept with mostly men before Cassandra, which some would probably interpret as an unkind commentary about Cassandra’s appearance. But Vhonan loved Cassandra's body, loved the soft, romantic underbelly she kept hidden under her armor and scowl, loved the lacy things she wore in private, loved the way she kept a secret vial of rose perfume that she wore only for him. She wasn’t a man, and he loved that.

But he was still only as big as he was, and he still liked all the things that he liked. He could not deny that he wanted the weight of her on top of him, pushing him down, pressing him open. He wanted to feel her hips move against him while he mewled and squirmed, receptive and slick for the person he loved. He had said as much to her once, when she had three fingers buried in him and had been making him sob into her neck. Hence the gift.

But maybe that had been just a fantasy she’d enjoyed in the heat of that particular moment, nothing more?

Vhonan watched Cassandra with hungry, fearful eyes as she compared the color of the leather to her skin (a lovely contrast, the blue rich and dark on her olive complexion) and hefted the wooden shape, observing it from all angles.

“Is it truly acceptable to you, to lie with a woman in this way?" she asked, her voice quiet and neutral. "Would not a man....” she cut off, and her brows drew down in a scowl. Her eyes turned hard, and rose to his face to pin him there, and suddenly he was alone in a room with Seeker Pentaghast again, not his sweet Cassandra. “Would not a _man_ be better?”

“No,” he replied honestly. “A man would not be you.” 

She stared at him, and there she was again in those open, vulnerable eyes. Encouraged, Vhonan went on.

“If I had merely wanted a certain sensation and nothing more,” Vhonan said, indicating the contents of her left hand with a wave, “I would have taken Dorian up on his offer to bed me.”

“How _dare_ he!” she snarled. “The gall of--”

“It was before you’d even let me court you, _ma'arlath,”_ Vhonan interrupted, standing and cupping her forearms with his hands, calming her. “And I didn’t say yes. I was already thinking of you.”

She relaxed immediately, moving to cradle the objects to her chest. But then she sighed, and at the noise Vhonan’s chest tightened. Her head dropped, along with her shoulders, and she leaned the side of her face against his hair, breath warm along the back of his ear.

“I just want there to be one person who understands that I am soft, and passionate, and that I can give my all to a man who loves me. I want to _give_ _myself_ to you, you understand that?” He nodded, but she went right on. “I’ve read so many stories, heard so many tales, and I want something that feels like that. When I'm with you, I know that I have it. I feel the way women do in Varric's books. But can I still have that, if I do _this_ with you? In all the stories, it is the woman who....who is swept away, and made love to.”

Vhonan swallowed, trying not to be too attached to his desires, trying to let go of his hopes so he would be fine if she refused. “Do you even want to try this with me?” he asked.

 _“Yes,”_ she breathed. “I want it very much. The _sight_ of you beneath me, I cannot even describe--it would take a poet to make sense of the way I feel for you, you know I am poor with words. But this is not how love poetry goes, is it? When a man sweeps a woman off her feet, she stays _swept.”_

At this, Vhonan ventured a small smile. He stroked thin fingertips over the sensitive skin at the insides of her wrists, and pressed a kiss beside her mouth.

“Leliana will remake the Chantry, you will remake the Seekers, and a Dalish Elf is the Herald of Andraste. Now is the time for the familiar to be overturned and made anew. Perhaps we need love poetry about passionate, romantic women being swept off their feet and then parting their _beloveds'_ legs like the petals of a flower.”

Cassandra laughed, scar bunching up beside her mouth as her face split with mirth. The tension in Vhonan's chest relaxed.

“I admit, I would read poetry like that if it existed.” Cassandra nuzzled into his hair, pressing a kiss into the top of his ear. “So you would still....you will still know that I like flowers and poetry, if I do this?”

 _“Ma'arlath,_ that is one of the things I love best about you, why would I forget it?”


End file.
